by Carly Fall
He stepped out of the bathroom and walked to the kitchen, not bothering to put a towel around his torso. After retrieving a garbage bag, he returned to the bathroom and stuffed all his clothing in it, then placed it by the front door. After a shower and a nap, he intended to return to New Orleans, and he’d dump the bloody apparel on his way out.
He caught his reflection in the mirror. Flecks of blood covered his face and his hair. His hands were a light pink color from disposing his clothes. When he met his gaze in the mirror, his eyes seem haunted, and he once again wondered if he’d done the right thing tonight. He considered every move, and decided again that there had been no other choice.
Turning to the shower, he pulled the handle and waited for the spray to become hot. He stepped in and shut his eyes, not wanting to see the bottom of the tub turn red as the blood left his skin. No, the carnage he’d caused tonight had been necessary, but he just needed a few minutes of reprieve against it.
As he soaped his hair and face, memories of his time with Sami in this stall returned—her caress that elicited a chill up his spine even now, the way her soft breasts felt against his chest, and the exquisite pleasure that railed through him as she drank his blood, her lips gently milking it from his veins. Most of the anger he had felt because of her lies had dissipated, but the hurt still remained. He’d really liked her, and she’d used him. There was no other way to look at it.
The water relaxed his muscles, and exhaustion rolled in. Shutting off the shower, he dried himself off with a towel, dropped it to the floor, then headed for the bedroom. When he awoke, he’d contact Dedou about returning to her house.
27
When Connor woke, he found a text on his phone from an unknown number with flight information, and he guessed it came from Dedou, or someone in Operation Underworld. He glanced at the clock and realized he had two hours before he was to leave Los Angeles.
He dressed quickly, then packed up the remaining clothing. He began wiping down the apartment when the doorbell rang.
As he crept toward the door, he wondered who it could be. There was no way they could have found the van this fast, and Harper had said she had erased the reservation, so the authorities couldn’t tie it back to him. Had someone seen him with the truck last night after he’d parked it in the club lot? Doubtful, because if that had happened, the police would have visited him last night.
He looked through the security hole to find two men holding buckets and mops.
What the hell? Maybe they were at the wrong apartment?
“Can I help you?” he called.
“Charlie sent us. You need to get on a plane, and we need to clean.”
He hesitated only for a moment before opening the door.
The two men were both in their fifties and wore brown coveralls with a logo that read Charlie’s Cleaning Service. They nodded at him as they shuffled into the apartment towing not only the mops, but a vacuum cleaner and bottles of cleaning supplies.
“You’re supposed to be gone by now,” the one on the right said as the other guy looked around the apartment.
“I was going to wipe the place down before I left.”
“No. You go now, and we’ll take care of it. That’s what we’re paid to do. Charlie also says to leave the motorcycle here. We’ll get rid of that, too.”
He nodded and walked into the bedroom, realizing that their sole job was to make sure there was no trace of him ever being in Los Angeles. He appreciated Charlie cleaning up after him. It meant that he cared what happened to his employees, and it brought him peace of mind.
The little brown book Sami had left sat on the nightstand and caught his gaze. When he’d packed, he had intended on leaving it, sort of a final goodbye to the woman who had screwed him over. Instead, he grabbed it and shoved it in his bag. Why, he didn’t know, but it just seemed wrong not to take it. With the old leather binding and calligraphy writing, it could probably be considered an antique or some type of relic. He should return it to her, but he’d literally deleted her from his life when he’d gotten rid of her phone number. He had no idea where she lived or how to contact her, and had no intention of putting any effort into it, either. Operation Underworld had made it clear that his time in Los Angeles had come to an end.
The vacuum cleaner started up in the living room, and he took that as his cue to leave. He waved at the cleaners, then walked out into the warm late morning sun. A man dressed in black leaned against a Cadillac sedan.
“Mr. Dickson?”
Connor glanced around the parking lot, an uneasy feeling coming over him. “Yeah?”
“My name’s Frank,” the man said with a smile as he opened the door. “I’m here to take you to the airport.”
He nodded and slid into the backseat as relief washed through him and he began to relax.
Thankfully, traffic was lighter than usual on the trip to the airport, and he hoped the rest of his journey back to New Orleans remained as such.
He wondered what Charlie and Dedou would have in store for him, and where his next assignment would take him.
Wherever that was, he’d demand a new identity. He would no longer walk around with an ID that said Connor the dick.
28
Connor stood on the sidewalk outside Dedou’s and stared up at the house. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he’d done the exact same thing when Joe Smith had recruited him.
He stared at the top floor, trying to see any sign of Harper.
What about Mateo? He’d been sent to fight a demon. He wondered how that was working out for the guy.
Taking a deep breath, he moved up the sidewalk to the front door. He lifted his fist to knock, but it opened before his knuckles hit the wood.
Dedou stood before him, her dark eyes twinkling.
“Connor, it is good to see you alive.”
He couldn’t agree more. “Thanks.”
“Come in,” she said as she stepped to the side. “We’ve been waiting for you.”
As he walked into the dark room, Dedou shut the door behind him. He waited for a moment until his eyes adjusted to the soft glow of the candles after the glaring sun outside.
Everything was exactly the same. Baskets of spells, oils, frog legs, and ritual kits still littered the wooden tables, except now, he found it comforting instead unsettling as he had the first time he’d hesitantly walked into Dedou’s strange and mystic shop. Her practice of Voodoo had kept him safe and provided him with a weapon that rivaled no other.
Dedou laced her arm through his, which surprised him. Last time he’d seen her, she’d probably drugged him, cut his wrist open, and placed some type of spell on him, then kicked him out of the house. How things had changed in such a short period of time.
“You look tired, Connor. You eat, then you rest.”
He hadn’t even realized the intensity of the stress he’d been feeling the past few days until his shoulders relaxed and the muscles in his back seemed to unravel.
As she led him through the shop, he heard footfalls on the stairs. Glancing up, he spotted a rail-thin woman bounding down the staircase, taking two steps at a time.
“Dedou!” she yelled. “I forgot to buy food. Can I borrow some peanut butter or something? Or, if you have Oreos, even better!”
She looked up once she reached the bottom of the staircase and startled when she saw him.
He placed her in her early twenties. Purple-streaked dirty blonde hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun. She wore a short-sleeved AC/DC shirt, which showed off the bright and colorful full-sleeve tattoo that seemed to be a beautiful mishmash of sugar skulls, flowers, and some lettering. Her nose held a small diamond stud, as did her left eyebrow. She pushed her thick, black glasses up her slim nose as her dark brown gaze met his and she took a long pull of the Red Bull clutched in one hand.
He grinned, immediately liking her.
“You work too much, Harper,” Dedou scolded. “You need to remember to eat.”
She nodded a
bsently as she stared at him.
“I’m Connor,” he said, sticking out his hand.
Harper took it and squeezed so hard, he thought she may have broken a bone or two, but he tried not to show it.
“Well, hello. If I knew you were so handsome, I’d have been nicer to you on the phone. Glad you made it home alive,” she said, then immediately turned to Dedou. “Food?”
Dedou shook her head and grinned. “Yes, child. When was the last time you fed yourself?”
“I don’t know. Maybe yesterday or the day before? I just know I’m starving.”
“Then, you come eat with Connor and me.”
Harper scrunched her nose. “What are you having?”
“Kabrit stew.”
“Oh, no, Dedou,” Harper moaned, making the cutest face of disgust he’d ever seen. “No one around here likes goat except for you. What else do you have?”
With her arm still entwined in his, Dedou led him down the hall toward the kitchen, and Harper followed. He realized he had an ally against the goat stew.
“Yeah,” he chimed in as he turned to wink at Harper. “I think you’ve got a mutiny on the meal, Dedou.”
She sighed as they entered the kitchen. The smell of rosemary and parsley wafted from the stove, and his stomach howled. Surprisingly, the stew didn’t smell half-bad.
Everything in the kitchen from the wood flooring to the cupboards and ceiling was white. He remembered the first time he’d walked into the room. He’d been surprised at the color because Dedou’s shop was so dark. The light, airy atmosphere almost seemed out of context with the rest of the house.
“Fine,” Dedou huffed as she walked over to a huge metal pot on the burner. “You two eat your peanut butter and die early deaths.”
Harper smiled at him, set down her can, and began opening cupboards. On her third try, she squealed and turned to him, holding the jar as if it were some sort of trophy.
“Looks good,” he said with a grin, liking her more and more by the second.
“We’ll have peanut butter and chocolate sandwiches!”
Although he probably should eat something a little more nutritious, he agreed.
“I’ve got chocolate upstairs! I’ll be right back!”
As she flew out of the room, Dedou sighed again, but she wore a smile. “That girl will end up with diabetes.”
Harper was back within a minute or two, and she made their sandwiches. Dedou motioned for them to join her at the table.
He’d been hesitant to eat the wheat bread, mayo, chocolate bar, and peanut butter sandwich, but finally decided he enjoyed it. When Harper offered him another, he readily agreed.
As they ate, Harper and Dedou peppered him with questions about his assignment. He told them just about everything, but left out all information about Sami. He’d never admit to anyone in a million years he’d let a vampire drink from him, especially after he saw what they were capable of as a species. He guessed he’d be having nightmares for a while as the images from what he had deemed The Blood House flashed in his mind.
The conversation changed, and he found himself laughing along with Dedou as Harper told them about her day. His initial assessment of her had been correct: the woman survived on nothing but caffeine and sugar.
After listening to her a while, he also realized she was very, very busy. Operation Underworld wasn’t the only organization that employed her. She also worked for a couple cyber security firms, as well as the government as a white-hat hacker, which he found out meant that she helped shore up their online security by using her computer skills to break past firewalls, and then help them repair the weak spots.
An hour had passed when Dedou stood as she squeezed his forearm.
“Welcome home, Connor.”
A strange feeling came over him as he realized he’d never really had a place to call home before. His chest tightened, and his throat constricted. And damn, were those tears stinging his eyes?
He’d grown up in the orphanage, and the military had shipped him all over the world. Once stationed in North Carolina, he’d found some semblance of a family with his unit, but he’d never called it home.
Harper reached over and squeezed his fingers, giving him a huge, beautiful smile. “Yeah, glad you made it.”
He glanced over at Dedou, who stood at the sink washing the dishes, then at Harper, who continued to talk non-stop.
Dedou and her voodoo, his ability to see vampires, Mateo hunting demons, and Harper … he wasn’t sure about her, but he’d bet there was something unique about her, as well.
Yes, it definitely felt like with Operation Underworld, he’d found his family.
Epilogue
Two weeks later
* * *
Connor had settled into Dedou’s house, and she’d promised him he would have another assignment in the very near future. While he waited for it, he’d fallen into a routine of waking with the sun, working out and going for a run, then coming back and visiting Harper in the attic.
Harper’s place was usually a mess, littered with empty energy drink cans and candy wrappers. She worked at a bank of computers, and although she tried to give him a more detailed look of what she did and for whom, he couldn’t follow. The woman had her hands in too many pies. He just knew that if he ever needed her, she’d be a simple phone call away.
He and Dedou had come to some unspoken understanding. It was like now that he had completed his assignment, she showed him some respect, which he appreciated. He’d also told her to work on a new identification for him, because he wouldn’t use the old one. The woman had laughed uncontrollably.
Presently, he’d just returned from a run and climbed the staircase to his room. He glanced over at the door across the hall, and wondered how Mateo was doing in his hunt against demons. It seemed like so long ago that they had met, each beginning a new adventure in their lives. He hoped the guy would show up soon so they could talk.
He opened the door and stepped in. After kicking off his running shoes, he stripped down, his body gleaming with sweat. Even in the fall, New Orleans had unbearable humidity, and he’d definitely have to drink more water today to make up for all that he’d lost during his run.
He walked over to the bathroom and turned on the shower, not bothering to lock the door that led to another bedroom. No one new had come around since he’d returned.
As he waited for the spray warm, he hummed softly to himself. The noise of the water hitting the tile blocked out the sound of the adjoining door opening, but he did catch the gasp.
Startled, he turned around, his shock so great, he didn’t even think to grab a towel to cover himself.
At first, he’d expected to see Dedou. However, nothing could have prepared him for who stared at him with gorgeous dark, wide eyes, her mouth forming a perfect O as she lifted her hand to her lips.
“Connor?” she whispered.
With his heart thundering in his chest, he blinked a couple of times to be sure he wasn’t hallucinating, but no, she still stood there looking more beautiful than he remembered. Then, the hurt and anger at her betrayal resurfaced.
“Sami?” he asked. “What the hell are you doing here?”
A Touch of Love
Connor and Sami - Operation Underworld
Book 2 of 3
* * *
By
Carly Fall
* * *
Copyright © 2017 by Carly Fall
All rights reserved.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
1
Sami Karim had no more tears to cry as she gripped the stem of one white rose and stared at the casket holding her mother’s body. The full moon above made the cemetery look like something from a horror movie with the tombstones casting shadows across the grass. The nighttime breeze car
essed her skin like the whispers of the ghosts of the dead around her, sending chills down her spine.
Although her mother, Eris, had been a Muslim vampire, this funeral was something Sami had never experienced before, and she doubted anyone would ever see again. She actually wondered if her mother had lost some of her mental faculties as she planned the ceremony in her last weeks of life. Whether she had been all there or not, leave it to Eris to toss aside most traditions and plan her own service with such detail, there was nothing left to even question. She’d insisted on being buried her way, regardless of religious rituals, which was exactly how she lived her life.
Eris had died three days ago after almost a year of not drinking any blood, surrounded by her family consisting of Sami, and Eris’ sister, Aida. Although she should have been buried immediately, which was the custom in the Muslim religion, Sami hadn’t been able to secure anyone to perform the ceremony her mother wanted on such short notice. In a traditional Muslim burial, an Imam would have led the prayer, but Sami couldn’t find one who would take part in a service such as this. All suggested she stick to the strict religious customs, and at least have a male of the family perform the prayer, but she couldn’t do that. First, there weren’t any male Muslims present. Second, she’d bury her mother the way Eris had wanted, regardless of the pressures from Aida and the Imams.
She’d had been by her mother’s side as she’d taken her last breath. It had been both heartbreaking and a relief. Watching Eris go through her self-imposed suffering had been agonizing for Sami, but the pain and torment her mother had endured as her body shut down little by little had been evident. The relief came from knowing she no longer suffered.
